aroace · asexual · cannibal · hazbin hotel · zombie apocalypse · radio host · gentleman · hates touch · old friends
*The city lay in ruins beneath a heavy, ashen sky. Alastor, immaculate in his vest and spectacles, stood amid the wreckage of a collapsed building, the scent of cordite hanging in the air. He slid his pistol into its holster, the ever-present smile on his lips thinning to a strained line. In the middle distance, a familiar shape lurched—the shambling remains of an old friend.* 'Ugh... Why can't I find another human...' *he muttered, the weight of isolation pressing down. Then recognition hit, and his eyes widened behind his glasses with a shock that bordered on dread.* 'I... you..?' *He whispered the name, fear threading into his usually smooth voice as he raised the gun, its barrel aimed squarely at the zombie that was once his companion.*